The Rosary Girls Read Online Free PDF

coat.
“I’m a married woman, Angie.”
“Not that married.”
“Just tell him I said... hello,” Jessica said.
“Just hello?”
“Yeah. For now. The last thing I need in my life right now is a man.”
“Probably the saddest words I’ve ever heard,” Angela said.
Jessica laughed. “You’re right. It does sound pretty pathetic.”
“Everything all set for tonight?”
“ Oh yeah,” Jessica said.
“What’s her name?”
“You ready?”
“Hit me.”
“Sparkle Munoz.”
“Wow,” Angela said. “Sparkle?”
“Sparkle.”
“What do you know about her?”
“I saw a tape of her last fight,” Jessica said. “Powder puff.”
Jessica was one of a small but growing coterie of Philly female boxers. What began as a lark at Police Athletic League gyms, while Jessica tried to lose the weight she had gained during her pregnancy, had grown into a serious pursuit. With a record of 3–0, all three wins by knockout, Jessica was already starting to get some good press. The fact that she wore dusty rose satin trunks with the words jessie balls stitched across the waistband didn’t hurt her image, either.
“You’re gonna be there, right?” Jessica asked.
“Absolutely.”
“Thanks, cuz,” Jessica said, glancing at the clock. “Listen, I gotta run.”
“Me, too.”
“Got one more question for you, Angie.”
“Shoot.”
“Why did I become a cop again?”
“That’s easy,” Angela said. “To molest and swerve.”
“Eight o’clock.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Love you.”
“Love you back.”
Jessica hung up the phone, looked at Sophie. Sophie had decided it was a good idea to connect the dots on her polka-dot dress with an orange Magic Marker.
How the hell was she going to get through this day?
    With Sophie changed and deposited at Paula Farinacci’s—the godsend babysitter who lived three doors down, and one of Jessica’s best friends—Jessica walked back home, her maize-colored suit already starting to wrinkle. When she had been in Auto, she could opt for jeans and leather, T-shirts and sweatshirts, the occasional pantsuit. She liked the look of the Glock on the hip of her best faded Levi’s. All cops did, if they were being honest. But now she had to look a little more professional.
    Lexington Park was a stable section of Northeast Philadelphia that bordered Pennypack Park. It was also home to a lot of law enforcement types, and for that reason, there were not a lot of burglaries in Lexington Park these days. Second-story men seemed to have a pathological aversion to hollow points and slavering rottweilers.
    Welcome to Cop Land.
Enter at your own risk.
Before Jessica reached her driveway, she heard the metallic growl and knew it was Vincent. Three years in Auto gave her a highly attuned logic when it came to engines, so when Vincent’s throaty 1969 Shovelhead Harley rounded the corner and roared to a stop in the driveway, she knew her piston-sense was still fully functioning. Vincent also had an old Dodge van, but, like most bikers, the minute the thermometer topped forty degrees—and often before—he was on his Hog.
    As a plainclothes narcotics detective, Vincent Balzano had an unfettered leeway when it came to his appearance. With his four-day beard, scuffed leather jacket, and Serengeti sunglasses, he looked a lot more like a perp than a cop. His dark brown hair was longer than she’d ever seen it. It was pulled back into a ponytail. The ever-present gold crucifix he wore on a gold chain around his neck winked in the morning sunlight.
    Jessica was, and always had been, a sucker for the bad-boy, swarthy type.
She banished that thought and put on her game face.
“What do you want, Vincent?”
He took off his sunglasses and calmly asked: “What time did he leave?”
“I don’t have time for this shit.”
“It’s a simple question, Jessie.”
“It’s also none of your business.”
Jessica could see that this hurt but, at the moment, she didn’t care.
“You are my wife, ” he began, as if